


Walking

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: High Heels, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 16:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21413365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis runs into Ignis.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 11
Kudos: 65





	Walking

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Shopping with Gladiolus is an okay time. It’s not super fun, but it’s not bad. It’s company. He’s allowed to do it without glaives following him around—or at least, he thinks they aren’t. They have some things in common, and those stores are a joy to browse—they can spend _hours_ in a single video game outlet. Gladiolus will indulge Noctis for the comic book stores, and he’ll spend some time in the arcade. He takes longer than Noctis would like in the record store. Then he wants to go into a hiking place that just looks like _work_ to Noctis, so he sits outside on a bench while Gladiolus takes forever. Noctis already has all the outdoor gear he’ll ever need, and unless it involves fishing, he’s not interested. He’d rather just stay in the comfort of his own bedroom, close to the computer and TV.

At least he can take his phone anywhere with him, and he whips it out while he waits. He shoots off a couple messages to Prompto that stay unanswered, because Prompto should be working, on shift at the movie theatre. Then Noctis texts Ignis who should answer immediately, because Ignis always answers. 

Just when he’s sent his text, he hears a familiar ring tone just an arm’s length away. Noctis’ head snaps up, and through the milling crowd, he spots his advisor.

Ignis is standing there, head bent over his phone, eyes skimming the screen beneath his glasses. He’s apparently too distracted to notice that Noctis is _right there_, which is understandable, given how many people are bustling about the busy mall. Noctis can’t even smell Ignis’ cologne amidst the wafting haze of perfume. For a moment, Noctis is distracted too, completely hooked on Ignis’ legs.

Clearly, Ignis has just come from a shoe store. He has a branded bag at his side, bulging with what looks like two boxes, and the shoes he’s wearing aren’t like anything Noctis has ever seen on him before. His pants are a normal pair of dark skinny jeans, hugging his tight figure as close as ever, taut rear perfectly cupped. His purple coeurl-print shirt is un-buttoned just low enough to show off his favourite silver necklace, which sits perfectly against his exposed collarbone. His hair is lightly tousled, not gelled up like it so often is. But the biggest point of difference is the black thigh-high boots that climb halfway up his legs and end in a sharp high heel. 

Noctis watches the fluorescent lights shine off of them. He watches the curve of Ignis’ legs, exaggerated by the added height, and the rounded points of his toes. They’re held up with a long zipper, but black strings crisscross over it like a corset, keeping the dark fabric nice and tight. Noctis isn’t sure he’s ever had such a good look at Ignis’ lower curves. He’s so engrossed in the view that he nearly jumps out of his skin when his phone buzzes with Ignis’ answer, chirping Prompto’s cheesy chocobo call. 

Ignis’ head whips around. Noctis’ ring tone is even more distinctive than his own Ebony coffee jingle. He spots Noctis instantly, then dons a thin smile and strolls forward. 

Noctis stares straight down at the boots clicking towards him, bizarrely enamoured. He’s known Ignis most of his life, but for the first time, he’s speechless. It takes genuine will power to turn his gaze up to Ignis’ handsome face, which is saying something, because Ignis is just as beautiful on the top as on the bottom. Ignis smoothly greets, “Hello, Your Highness.”

“Iggy,” Noctis grunts. Then he can’t help bursting, “Why don’t you ever wear those to my place?”

“Those?” Ignis lifts a brow, then follows Noctis’ pointed gaze and answers, “Ah. Well, they hardly go with my work suits.”

Noctis slowly nods as though he understands or cares. He doesn’t. He just wants Ignis to wear those in the privacy of his own home, preferably those and _only_ those: no suits necessary. Ignis gives him a few more seconds, but Noctis is still struggling for words. When Ignis finally turns to go, Noctis splutters, “Wear them at work.”

Ignis glances back. Noctis holds firm. For a moment, Ignis searches his face.

Then Ignis grins low and all but purrs, “Yes, Your Highness.”

Then he’s on his way.

Noctis already has his phone out, so it’s easy to quickly snap a picture of his ridiculously attractive advisor swaying away—he takes several, as many as he can. He’s still staring at them when Gladiolus finally emerges, having missed the entire party.


End file.
